


Anything for you

by clokkerfoot



Category: The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: F. Scott Fitzgerald is turning in his grave, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clokkerfoot/pseuds/clokkerfoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jay Gatsby comes to the conclusion that he never loved Daisy. Nick Carraway comes to the conclusion that he is in love with Gatsby. And that's perfectly alright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything for you

Of all the birthdays Nick had had in his life, his thirtieth had been, by an unmeasurable margin, the worst. Not only had he neglected to realise that it was his birthday, he had witnessed the painful destruction of a marriage and two affairs, and had seen Gatsby condemned to a fate worse than death - he had lost Daisy.

Nick knew, but Gatsby did not. He couldn't break it to him.

Outside Gatsby’s manor, near the garage, Gatsby had confessed his and Daisy’s plan to Nick. And now he had to watch him fail, again. Now he had to watch him walk away, again.

“Wait up with me,” Gatsby said, pausing in the doorway. Nick could hear the pleading in Gatsby’s faltering voice, and he couldn’t stop his expression softening, “The sun’s almost up.”

Gatsby turned to look at Nick, and his tightly pressed lips revealed the truth behind his request. Nick knew he was losing hope in the future. In Daisy. He felt both terribly sad and honoured that he was the only person Gatsby could turn to. The poor man had no one.

“Shall we go inside, old sport?” His voice cracked as he repeated the phrase that, only a few short hours ago, condemned him.

“Yes. Yes, Jay. Of course,"

And, as Gatsby turned away and continued to venture indoors, Nick quietly spoke again.

"Anything for you."

-

They must have spent hours walking around the infinite halls of Gatsby’s manor. As the true darkness of night-time, more lifeless and menacing than it had ever been before, crept into even the most well lit of rooms, Gatsby had confessed his life story to Nick.

“You know, I thought for a while I had a lot of things, but the truth is, I'm… I'm empty.”

Nick didn’t respond. He didn’t know how he could. He had never encountered a man so lonely, but so simultaneously hopeful. Gatsby’s very essence was contradictory, and Nick was out of his depth. He had dealt with confusing and contradictory people his entire life, but never one quite like Jay Gatsby.

-

After tiptoeing through the empty ballrooms and dusty libraries of the manor, they somehow ended up drifting towards the dock, where Nick had first seen Gatsby, arm outstretched, silently calling out for his lost love.

"You know, I've never said quite so much about myself, old sport. You've hardly spoken a word," Gatsby said with an encouraging nod of his head, "Tell me about yourself."

"There's not much to tell. Really, I don't mind just listening to you, Jay."

Gatsby didn't look convinced, but he still jumped down onto the lower section of the dock and opened his arms to the salty breeze blowing in from the bay. Nick carefully climbed down the short ladder. Since Gatsby had opened up about his past, he'd lost most of his strong mannerisms, and had given into a few childish pleasures, like monkeying around on the dock.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they, old sport?"

Nick leant against the solid wall of the upper dock and tilted his head up. The stars, while bright and countless, were slightly disguised by the wispy clouds drifting across the sky, as if they were hiding from onlookers, "Why, yes, I suppose they are." He agreed with a nod directed vaguely towards Gatsby.

Silence fell upon the two of them, broken only by the gentle lapping of the waves from the bay against the shore, the soft thud of contact between boat and dock, and the faint rustle of the wind sweeping through the trees far away. Nick glanced back at Gatsby, taking in how perfectly at home he looked with outstretched arms, gazing up at the stars.

"Daisy is beautiful."

Nick blinked, and suddenly everything vanished and he was left with slapping waves, thudding boats, and the sharp whistle of wind.

"Yes. She is." He agreed flatly. He knew he sounded disinterested, but the beautiful moment they created together had been lost to the courtesy bay and the winds blowing in from East Egg.

Silence fell again, but this time Nick just stared at his shoes, muddied slightly from the walk down to the dock. The stars overhead suddenly seemed far too distant, and the brightly lit houses across the bay carried a dark past all of their own.

"I don't think I love her." Gatsby said suddenly. Nick looked up from his shoes.

"Daisy?"

Gatsby nodded. "I have spent so long trying to feel young again, old sport. Trying to feel like the young soldier Daisy Fay fell for. I've forgotten who I really am."

He turned, and in two quick strides he was mere inches away from Nick, who almost lost his footing at the surprise of the sudden closeness. "J-Jay?"

"I realised it today, old sport. You see, Daisy doesn't love me. I don't think she ever did." Gatsby placed his right hand gently on Nick's shoulder, "I also realised that I-"

Gatsby shook his head and stepped back, as if he had awoken from a dream, "Oh, do excuse me. I'm afraid I got a little lost in the moment."

"What were you going to say?" Nick heard the whisper escape his lips before he even realised he was going to say it.

"I- Nick, you are interested in Miss Baker, correct?"

"Not especially, no."

"Oh, but she's such a lovely girl-"

"Jay."

"From such an esteemed family-"

"Jay, please."

"And so beauti-"

"Jay!" Nick shouted exasperatedly, so loud that the Buchanans must have heard from all the way across the bay.

Gatsby fell silent.

"Honestly, Jay. I don't want Miss Baker. She's far too..." Nick considered his limited options. He could confess to Gatsby this moment, and finally have the truth out in the open. Or he could falsify his affection for a girl in the city and protect himself. He threw caution to the wind, "Well, she's a woman, Jay."

Gatsby did not seem half as surprised as Nick was expecting him to be.

"I've seen the way you look at Tom, old sport. It's not news to me that you're... that way inclined."

Nick felt like he was collapsing in on himself. Surely Gatsby would never call his orientation _that way inclined_ unless he himself were not 'that way inclined'? All hopes of a future with Gatsby suddenly disappeared. He should never have admitted it.

"Yes. I'm a damn poofter." He was suddenly filled with a painful emptiness, "I'm sorry."

He looked up. Gatsby was looking at him curiously. Studiously.

"Why are you sorry?"

Nick started, "I imagined you to be quite, well." He paused, “Prejudiced.”

Gatsby actually laughed. Guffawed. Like it was the funniest thing Nick had ever said to him, "Honestly, Nick. I of all people would not be prejudiced against you."

"Why?"

Gatsby, still chuckling, his shoulders quivering like an excited pup, took a step towards Nick. Once again faced with this unknown and sudden closeness, Nick felt his heart begin to race.

"You see, old sport..." Gatsby paused, his gaze flicking between Nick's wide eyes and his lips, "I feel much the same about you as you feel about me."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Jay," Nick spluttered out. His heart was pounding like a hummingbird trapped in a box and he felt slightly faint, "I don't _feel_ anything in particular for you."

Gatsby's lips turned up in a knowing smile, "Anything for me, old sport?"

Nick was so startled by Gatsby's comment, the spell between them was almost broken, "I beg your pardon?"

"You said you would do anything for me. Anything at all."

In the instant Nick had to respond, two paths opened wide before him, like the gaping jaws of destiny, of a future. He could go with Gatsby in this moment, allow himself to fall into his open arms and become who he promised himself he would never be, or he could take the safe path.

In that same instant, Nick threw caution to the wind for the second time that evening, and followed the path that would surely consume him.

"Everything. Everything, for you, Jay."

As the words fell from his lips, Gatsby's head tilted up, his eyes reflecting the eternal glow of the stars above them, almost like a pair of mirrors embedded in his handsome face, and he smiled. Smiled his impossible smile. Smiled like he suddenly, inexplicably, felt at peace.

"Everything. Everything," He looked down at Nick again, his lips pulled taut in a smile so wide it seemed as if his skin was going to splinter, "At last."

Before Nick could speak in response, he found his mouth rather occupied by a pair of soft lips. Nick exhaled sharply through his nose as Gatsby kissed him, and for a moment he felt like his stomach was going to implode as a result of the hot sensation under his skin.

Gatsby was _kissing_ him. Kissing _Nick_.

And, when Gatsby led him towards his bedroom and they learned how to love, Nick knew that it had been worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://clokkerfoot.tumblr.com/).


End file.
